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DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

AND OTHER 

SALTED SONGS 



BY 
THOMAS YBARRA 

ILLUSTRATED BY 

HENRY MAYER 




NEW YORK 
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1908 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

OCT 28 1908 

Copyright Entry 

CLASS ex. XXC, No, 

COPY 0. 






Copyright. 1908, 

BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



Published October, 1908 



THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS 
RAHWAY, N. J. 



CONTENTS 

DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

PAGE 

Yarn I 3 

Yarn II . . . . 15 

Yarn III 29 

Yarn IV 45 

Yarn V 57 

OTHER SALTED SONGS 

The Landlubber's Toast 69 

Future Launchings 72 

A Ballad of the North 74 

The Poet and the Tar 76 

A Romance of the Ocean . . . . . . . 79 

The Language of Flowers 83 

The Sailor's Life 86 

The Yarn of the Sea- Going Cheese .... 88 

Deep-Sea Thoughts 92 

The Yarn op the Let-Her-Rip 94 

The Ballad of the Marline-Spike 96 

An Epoch-Maker 99 

Immortality on the High Seas 101 




DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



I 



A mariner sat on a wharf and looked far 

out to sea. 

He said: " What grand adventures 

that there ocean's brought to 

me/' 

I ran to him; I cried, '' Oh, tar! Will 

you not tell me some ? 

With admiration and surprise I love to 

be struck dumb." 

*' With pleasure I will tell you all," the 

tar delighted cried. 

*' The hearing of my manly voice has 

11 ' always caused me pride. " 

'..■^ And then he rose and bowed to me; I 

I rose and bowed to him. 

We did it twice — we did it thrice — I and that sailor 

grim. 

* * My name is Davy Jones, ' ' he said ; I told him what was 

mine. 

3 




4 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

We brought the total of our bows from three clear up 
to nine. 




And then he rose and bowed to me. 

He lit his pipe; he winked his eye; he looked up at the 

sun 

*' You've brought this on yourself," he said — and then 

exclaimed : 

"l^arn ®ne!" 

(How Davy Jones met with, an Icecreamberg. And 
how happy he made the kind-faced Swiss admiral.) 

OU'VE often heard of Icebergs; oft 
you've read of tliem, I s'pose, 
But how about Icecreambergs I You 
have never heard of those. 




YARN ONE 5 

They are made when many gallons of the Milky 

Way get shot 
Into the icy Arctic Sea and frozen on the spot. 
Oh, my, but they're delicious, for the Milky Way's 

pure cream 
And sugared by the powder from the stars that 

sweetly gleam. 

Give me Icecreamberg for breakfast! Give me 

Icecreamberg for tea ! 
Give me Icecreamberg for luncheon ! — still there 11 

be some room in me ; 
But though IVe sailed ten million miles in fifty 

years, IVe reckoned, 
IVe met but one Icecreamberg — ah, when shall I 

meet a second! 

» 

"T^WAS when I sailed the Flying Fish upon the 

stormy brine, 
I and my dog — no mate' — no crew — to such I don't 

incline ; 
And as for sleep and keeping watch, 'twas easy as 

could be — 
I simply watched three nights a week and slept the 

other three. 



6 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



And on the seventh day each week, why then, ex- 
hausted quite, 

I called my dog — he's named '^ Dog Watch " — 
and slept both day and night ; 

For discipline is discipline — it has to be kept up, 

No matter if a vessel's crew is nothing but a pup. 




I saw that great Icecreamberg rising like an island's ghost. 



Well, in the Arctic Ocean once, near Greenland's 

coldest coast, 
I saw that great Icecreamberg rising like an 

island's ghost 



YARN ONE 7 

Out of the freezing waters — close beside my ship 
it rolled — 

Grand and icily delicious — creamy, glistening, and 
cold. 

I seized a grappling iron, made my ship fast to 
that hill 

Of sweet dessert, then with a spade I labored with 
a will. 

I took on board three hundred pounds — six hun- 
dred — eight — one ton, 

Two — three — four — five — as I'm alive — at last my 
task was done. 

From bow to stern, from hold to rail, my ship was 
all a-gleam 

With dazzling chunks and mighty hunks of beauti- 
ful ice cream. 

I ate it by the platterful, I scooped it up with 
scoops ; 

I ate it by the dipperful with loud delighted 
whoops. 

And when I'd eaten many poujids, why then, with 
my whole mind 

I taught ^^ Dog Watch " to like it — which was 
difficult, though kind. 



8 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



But just as half a teaspoonful I'd ladled in his 

mouth, 
A fearful hurricane came up and shot us toward 

the South. 




I taught " Dog Watch " to like it. 



The South ! The heat ! The tropic sun — they hit 

us all together; 
From freezing-point I found myself flung into 

furnace weather. 
What happened next you surely guess — that ice 

cream felt the heat, 
And with one mighty gurgle melted all around my 

feet. 
In vain I wailed — in vain I baled — I tried the 

flood to check; 



10 ' DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

* ' Dog Watch ' ' was swimming for his life around 
that cream-washed deck. 

The milky flood flowed back and forth with an ap- 
palling sound ; 
I started once to cross the hatch, sank in, and 

almost drowned; 
I tried to bale by bncketsful — in pails I poured 

cream out ; 
I threw it overboard in casks — but still it surged 

about. 
Then lo! a terrible typhoon, straight from the 

China Sea, 
Caught us and dashed us toward the North. I 

stood up to my knee 
In floods of cream, and reefed and steered, when, 

'mid the tempest's din, 
That cream did freeze around my knees, and I 

WAS FROZEN IN ! 
That was a fix — I groaned — I moaned — then heard 

a mournful wail, 
I looked around and saw '' Dog Watch " caught 

firmly by the tail. 
In frozen cream — unlucky dog — he'd started up 

the mast, 



YARN ONE 



11 



But that ice cream froze to his tail and held the 

poor dog fast. 
^ ^ Dog Watch ' ^ and I exchanged a glance ; I smiled 

in sympathy, 
And then he wept because he could not wag his tail 

at me! 




I looked around and saw " Dog Watch" caught firmly by the tall. 



Two nights we froze around the toes — two days 

we scanned the seas 
In search of sails — and oh, how cold it was about 

my knees ! 



12 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



At last I saw a distant sail — then two — then 
three — four — five. 

It was the Swiss Atlantic Fleet, as sure as I'm 
alive. 

A boat put off from the ' ' Mont Blanc, ' ' the flag- 
ship grim and grand, 

And the Swiss Admiral arrived and shook me by 
the hand. 

He was a kind-faced little chap in Alpine toggery, 

With just a touch — not very much — suggestive of 
the sea. 

\ 




He was a kind-faced little chap in Alpine toggery. 

And all his tars were half like guides — a most 
peculiar blend — 



YARN ONE 13 

And their rowlocks held alpenstocks with oar- 
blades on the end. 
They dug me out— they freed ^' Dog Watch " — 

then their commander shrieks : 
** IVe worried and I've torn my hair for many 

weary weeks 
To think of some fine birthday gift that to my 

tars would seem 
A treat — Hooray! — it's my birthday — I'll buy up 

your ice cream ! " 
And then he gave me silver coins and then he gave 

me gold, 
With joyous squeals he danced Swiss reels, while 

I exclaimed : ' ^ It 's sold ! ' ' 
I sailed away a wealthy man, while with an Alpine 

scream 
And mighty cheers those mountaineers pitched 

into that ice cream. 



II 

I once was walking homeward on a chilly, snowy night, 
Without a thought of Davy Jones or oceans blue and 
white. 




Davy overtook me, tripped me up, and cried. 

I stood and shivered by my door, my latch-key forth I 

drew, 

When Davy overtook me, tripped me up, and cried : 

15 



16 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



"l!)ani Zvoor 

(How Davy Jones got into trouble in Russia — and how 
his old friend, the Swiss Admiral, got him out of it.) 



OG WATCH," my faithful dog, and 
I were on the Flying Fish 
One lovely starlit evening when I 
screamed: " I have a wish. 
It is to visit Russia where the copecks circulate, 



D 




Que lovely starlit evening. 




YARN TWO 



17 



Where otherwise sane people jabber Russian 

while you wait.'' 
N TO sooner screamed than done — I turned the 

Flying Fish's prow 
Toward Russia's nearest Baltic port — " Dog 

Watch ' ' with glad ' ^ Bow-wow ' ' 
Endeavored to be dignified and held his head 

high 




My face is very pliable— I twist it oft in fun. 

Just like those Russian wolfhounds which he'd 

read of when a pup, 
And since I knew that Yankees who go into Russia 

are 
At times disliked, I cried aloud: '' I'll look just 

like the Czar ! " 



18 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



I THEREFORE grew a pointed beard and 

practised up a glance 
Suggestive of autocracy and hinting at romance. 
(My face is very pliable — I twist it oft in fun 
To look like cheese or Socrates or Dante or a bun.) 




And so the trick to look like Nick was easily achieved. 



And so the trick to look like Nick was easily 

achieved. 
I could have fooled his brother — or his mother — 

I believe. 



YARN TWO 19 

And then I landed gaily — cried, in Eussian: 

*^ How-de-do/' 
The local population cried, astonished: ^^ Is it 

you? '' 
One minute more they eyed me ; then with shouts 

of '^t is he!'' 
Those rude muzhiks all collared bricks and made a 

step toward me. 

" \T0 place for Nick the Czar!'' I told my 

doggy, ^^ so here goes." 
With which we headed for some trees suggestive 

of repose. 
I tried to twist my features back, but every time I 

tried 
To do it — fudge — they wouldn't budge — fear had 

them petrified. 
A saber shaved my whiskers off; a bullet set me 

quaking ; 
A bomb blew up two footprints I had scarcely 

finished making; 
Another one upset me ; I lay down upon the ground 
And thought anew that death was due — it wasn't 

though, I found. 



20 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



For bullets two whizzed by me, close together, 
parallel, 




A saber shaved my whiskers off. 

And creased one of my trousers neatly, handily, 
and well. 



T 



HAT made me feel encouraged, so I scrambled 
to my feet. 



YARN TWO 21 

^ ^ A pretty way, ' ' I cried, ' ' have they of treating 
their elite.'' 

I ran — I passed a village — every one who chanced 

to be 
About, seized stones with awful groans and hurled 

them after me. 
I x)assed another village — empty soon was every 

hut, 
Deserted were the streets and lanes and every 

store was shut. 
While young and old, those villagers came sprint- 

ing after me 
Amid uncouth expressions of a most uncanny glee. 

T^HE scenery was exquisite — I tried to make 

short stops. 
But on the jump through dell and clump, they 

came — through bush and copse. 
Obliging me to dash along, unable once to dally. 
Through lovely dale, through flowered vale, and 

through Wordsworthian valley. 
And thus, collecting mobs in every village that we 

passed. 



22 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

With one great screech we all did reach Saint 
Petersburg at last. 

"YY/E thundered through each avenue; we thun- 
dered through each square ; 
The bricks were being better aimed — they often 

grazed my hair. 
I dashed right through the jDalace gate upon the 

double-quick. 
The sentinels presented arms. They thought that 

I was Nick ! 
The sentinels presented arms — the generals all 

knelt — 
Oh, what relief beyond belief! How uppishly I 

felt! 
They led me to the dining-hall — my stars ! — but it 

was fine ! 
Two dukes, both grand, began to hand me costly 

meat and wine. 
What wines ! What meats ! AVhat pickled beets ! 

Ah, recollection dear ! 
(Why, one large dish of scalloped fish made me 

stand up and cheer.) 
But, just as I was finishing my coffee, with a grin, 



M DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

A folding door flew open and the real Czar ambled 
in! 

TIE eyed me in amazement; then he signaled to 

the guard. 
I vaulted o'er the window-sill and scrambled 

through the yard. 
The sentinels fixed bayonets; no generals now 

bowed ; 
Close at my heels with Slavic squeals the army 

joined the crowd, 
With bullets, bombs, and bayonets ! — and last, 

but — oh — not least, 
A roar of Eussian expletives which steadily in- 
creased 
Each second, minute, hour, while I sprinted for 

the coast. 
Exceedingly exhausted and devoid of hope — 

almost. 

A T last I saw some ships, I did — and then I 

screamed with bliss 
And yelled with joy for— ship ahoy! — I saw that 
they were Swiss. 




•73 



O 






o 

q=l 
;-( 
O 
O 

to 



26 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



My friend, tlie gay Swiss admiral, observed my 

fevered race 
And sent a flight of shells ashore — the Eussians 

stopped their chase, 




It hoisted me above the crowd and far above the bay. 

But one old chap a bomb — kerslap! — threw 

straight beneath my feet. 
It burst into a dozen chunks ; I used one for a seat. 



YARN TWO 27 

It hoisted me above the crowd and far above the 

bay, 
And through the air in triumph to where the Swiss 

flotilla lay. 



I DOFFED my hat politely to those Eussian 

troops and mob 
And cried: ^* You bet that I regret you couldn't 

end this job ! ' ' 
(Sarcastic, hey! It is my way,) — then — flop! — 

that piece of bomb 
Where I was seated with my dog began descending 

from 
The atmosphere till, with a cheer, I tumbled on the 

ship 
Of my old pal the admiral, who gave a Swiss 

" Hip, hip! '' 
Good victuals he possessed galore; on them we 

gaily dined 
While I told how the Eussian troops and mob I'd 

left behind. 
Then, just as in the Polar Seas, we danced the 

wildest reels. 



28 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



Encouraged by the sailors witli ecstatic Alpine 

squeals, 
And ere we left, the admiral, with one wave of his 

hand, 
Eemarked to me: ^' Henceforth you'll be my 

second in command." 




We danced the wildest reels. 



Ill 

I walked along the avenue, a magazine I read, 

When some one stepped upon my foot with quite a heavy 

tread. 
The man did not apologize ; despite my anger, he 
Serenely lingered on my foot, and spoke these words: 




'flT^ 



When some one stepped upon my foot with quite a heavy tread. 

29 



30 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



f> 



(How Davy Jones and the Swiss Admiral chased the 
Mince Pirates — and how the latter happened to escape 
alive.) 

^^^^^ HAT kind-faced Swiss, the admiral, had 
A ^ made me, I repeat, 
^"^^ His second in command o'er all his 
mighty battle fleet ; 

And so I hitched the Flying Fish behind his flag- 
ship grim 

Because he wished me and my dog upon the bridge 
with him. 

And there he said: " We'll sail the seas some vil- 
lains bad to trap ; 

The fierce Mince Pirates, Davy Jones; we'll wipe 
them off the map. ' ' 



"^HY are they called 'Mince Pirates,' 
sir! " I asked. ^' What is their mission? 

Do they? " said I, " employ Mince Pie instead of 
ammunition? " 



YARN THREE 



31 



*^ No, no, they're called Mince Pirates," said my 

bold commander, " since 
They all are natives of an isle the name of which is 

Mince.'' 
Whereat we veered our ships and steered straight 

toward that pirate isle 
And sharpened up our cutlasses in most terrific 

style. 




And sharpened up our cutlasses in most terrific style. 



YARN THREE 33 

A ND on the seventh morning, lo ! our lookout 

cried ' ^ Hip, hip ! ' ' 
For on our larboard bow he saw the fierce Mince 

Pirates' ship. 
I drummed the crew to quarters and I loaded all 

the guns; 
I served out extra rations of the big Swiss battle- 
buns; 
When suddenly I saw our chief was weeping in 

despair 
And pulling out whole handfuls of his beautiful 

Swiss hair. 
^' I cannot fight! It is not right! " he cried in 

wild dismay. 
^ ^ Those wicked pirates must have known that this 

is my birthday ! 
Throughout my maritime career that day I've 

never slighted — 
All persons found for miles around to dinner I've 

invited. 
So be it with the pirates, then ! Cook extra steaks 

and birds ! 
Sheathe cutlasses! Unload the guns! " (He 

fainted at these words.) 




o 

O 



03 
O 



^3 



ID 



YARN THREE 35 

T^HE pirate ship came sailing on; the villains 

knew our plight; 
The pirate horde all came on board with chuckles 

of delight. 
They scrambled o'er our bulwarks with barbaric 

little shrieks, 
Our chief and I received them while the tears ran 

down our cheeks. 
We served them wine and victuals fine — we 

showed them all our sights — 
Our handsome, pale topgallant sail — our set of 

Northern lights — 
Our brass jibboom — our compass room — our bat- 
teries of guns — 
The baker's oven where we baked the great Swiss 

battle-buns. 



nPHE pirates showed much interest — they said 

just what they should — 
But as for us — oh! how we longed to kill them 

where they stood ! 
But soon our wrath cooled off a bit; for dinner 

being o'er, 



36 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

They leaned on rails, and told wild tales of 

Mince's pirate shore; 
They taught me their great battle-song — the one 

that makes foes deaf — 
(It starts with '' Whee! " bawled out in G — and 

ends with ' ' Grrrrrrr ! " in F ) ; 
They taught me how to growl and scowl — and how 

with rage to burn — 
And then their captain made a point of getting me 

to learn 
The pirate dance: two skips, one prance — two 

jiggles — than one more — 
A mighty hop and then — kerflop ! — a tumble to the 

floor. 



T PRANCED and skipped with perfect grace; I 
did the jiggles three ; 

I hopped the hop, but my kerflop was a catas- 
trophe. 

I rose — I tried the thing once more — I jigged 
thrice anew — 

I hopped again with ease, and then — cold water 
brought me to. 



YARN THREE 



37 



Those kindly pirates picked me up and said it 

didn't matter; 
They gave more cheers; they drank more beers 

(especially the latter) — 
Until, filled full of food and wine, awake they 

could not keep, 
So stretched upon the quarter-deck, they tumbled 

off to sleep. 





w^. 



t'l 



I pranced and skipped with perfect grace ; I did the jiggles three. 



38 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

"T'WAS ev'ning, and the moonlight soft il- 
lumined sky and sea 

When my old pal, the admiral, said ' ' Hist ! ' ' — 
three times to me. 

^ ' Hist ! Davy Jones — on tiptoe walk ! — Hist — 
muzzle up your pup ! 

Hist! Davy dear! No buccaneer till midnight 
must wake up ! 

But when the stroke of twelve has struck, we'll 
wake them with a bawl ; 

IT WILL NOT BE MY BIKTHDAY THEN! 
We '11 kill them one and all ! " 

1\ yiY blood was frozen in my veins; how icy-cold 

it ran ! 
But all those Swiss were filled with bliss at their 

commander's plan. 
In fact his crew decided to send him a delegation — 

(A quiet pair) — to whisper their respectful 
admiration. 

'C IGHT — nine — nine-thirty — ten o'clock — still 

those poor pirates slept ! 
The Swiss were sharpening their swords ; I heard 

the sound and wept ! 



YARN THREE 39 

Ten-twenty — fifty — fifty-five — I caught the gleam 

of guns ! 
I heard the cook distributing the great Swiss 

battle-buns ! 
Eleven-ten ! A quarter past !— ELEVEN-FIFTY 

EIGHT; 
The buns were all distributed! No longer could 

I wait ! 
I softly stepped to where he slept — that pirate 

captain nice — 
With silent vim I booted him and pinched his left 

ear thrice. 
They woke — I spoke — he and his folk all dived 

into the brine, 
Climbed their ship 's rail ! — crammed on all sail ! — 

ELEVEN-FIFTY-NINE ! 

Their canvas swelled — how those Swiss yelled with 

fury at such luck ! 
Ten seconds — twenty — thirty-five ! — six ! — seven ! 

—MIDNIGHT STRUCK! 



TPHROUGH clouds of spray we dashed away ; we 
cut the waves zip-zip ; 



40 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



Like lightning o 'er the waves we tore straight for 

that pirate ship. 
The admiral and all his crew, beside the loaded 

guns, 
With wild delight began to bite the great Swiss 

battle-buns ! 




He and his folk all dived into the brine. 



One minute more! 'Twould soon be o'er! 
Straight to our course we held ! 



YARN THREE 41 

' ' Aim starboard guns ! Bite starboard buns ! ! " 
the Swiss commander yelled. 



A ND then I had a wondrous thought — I hailed 

it with a cheer — 
Straight down I flopped on deck, and dropped a 

most enormous tear. 
^^ Oh, why these groans, good Davy Jones! Their 

cause explain, I pray. ' ' 
^ ' I hate, ' ' said I, ' ' to see men die. To-day is MY 

birthday! ^' 
* ^ Unload the guns ! Unhand the buns ! ' ' the 

admiral bawled out. 
^ ' Port ! Starboard ! Brail the mizzensail ! Tack ! 

Bring the ship about! 
Mince Pirates? Bah! Who cares for them? Who 

worries in the least 
When there's a chance again to dance and eat 

another feast! 
Congratulations, Davy Jones ! Why did you wait 

so long 
To tell our crews this gladsome news ! Strike up 

the Birthday Song ! 



YARN THREE 43 

Prepare to bake tlie Birthday Cake ! Hurrah for 
Davy, boys ! 

All gather on the after deck and make the Birth- 
day noise! " 

•y HEY did ! By all the stars, they did ! If not, 

may I be drowned ! 
(Upon my word, I never heard snch team-play in 

a sound!) 
And while my pal, the admiral, ecstatically 

cheered, 
That luck-endowed Mince Pirate crowd discreetly 

disappeared. 



IV 

Three minutes was the time I had to catch the train I 

sought. 
How I did run ! Two minutes ! One ! The train was 

almost caught. 




Davy Jones laid hold of me. 

Outside the gateway I arrived, I heard the engine 's roar, 
When Davy Jones laid hold of me and calmly said : 

"IParn jfour!" 

(How Davy Jones and Professor Bim went to Cuba to 

kill the Revolution Bug, and how the Revolution Bug 

upset their plans.) 

45 



46 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



eEOFESSOR BIM— you've heard of 
him! — the famous scientist — 
Came up to me one day and said: 
^' Dear Davy, I insist 
That we both sail to Cuba in your little vessel snug 




'^^^^^^ 



" Dear Davy, I insist." 

And hunt until we catch and kill the Revolution 

Bug 
Whose wicked, unexpected sting makes Cubans 

want to fight 



YARN FOUR 



47 



And carry knives by fours and fives — a most un- 
pleasant sight — 

Oh, Revolution Bug, beware ! Your fearful doom 
is nigh ! 

(A bug that laughed at Mr. Taft has simply got 
to die!)'' 




" Mj ship, my pelf, my dog, myself, are yours. Professor Bim !" 

'1\ /IID wild enthusiastic cheers I promptly said 

to him : 
'^ My ship, my pelf, my dog, myself, are yours, 

Professor Bim! " 
So off we sailed to Cuba — to a little landlocked 

cove, 
Surrounded by the beautifulest little palm-tree 

grove. 



48 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

The Cubans flocked to meet us dressed in fine out- 
landish rigs ; 

They sang us Cuban ditties and they danced us 
Cuban jigs; 

They brought us cocoanuts galore; they brought 
us sugar-cane, 

And, being most obliging, danced and sang for us 
again, 

Until the slim Professor Bim remarked with 
laughter smug : 

*' I and my friend have come to end the E evolution 
Bug! " 

/^H, how those Cubans cheered with joy! Oh, 

how they danced and sang! 
Oh, how they thanked Professor Bim until the 

welkin rang ! 
Wliile he and I stood calmly by and wondered 

what each wight meant. 
(It takes the Spanish language to -do justice to 

excitement.) 
They wished to make Bim President, but with a 

little shrug 



YARN FOUR 



49 



He said: ^' Must I not go and try to catcli that 

dreadful Bug! '' 
And so tliey made ME President of Cuba's lovely 

isle, 




He terrified each lizard green ; he shocked each peaceful frog. 

With medals and a uniform most tropical in style, 
While wise old Bim, alert and grim, with micro- 
scope and net, 
Went scrambling up the mountainside that dread- 
ful Bug to get. 



YARN FOUR 51 

T TE searched each nook and cranny with his 

little microscope, 
With superhuman energy and undiminished hope; 
He chased along the mountain-tops each buzzing 

thing he met, 
And butterflies immense in size he tangled in his 

net; 
He terrified each lizard green; he shocked each 

peaceful frog ; 
Each katydid flew off and hid in some secluded 

bog; 
But when, exhausted by his toil, Bim dropped into 

a doze, 
The Revolution Bug flew up and stung him on the 

nose! 

A LAS for Cuba 's lovely isle ! That peaceful 
scientist 

Woke with a shout, an out-and-out old revolu- 
tionist ! 

He howled — he roared — he stole a sword! he 
gathered rebel troops ! 

He cried: ^^ Down with the Government! " with 
most ear-splitting whoops ! 



52 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



/ was the Government, you know; my dog and I 

both cried 
To think of him — Professor Bim ! — upon the rebel 

side ! 




The Revolution Bug flew up and stung bim on the nose ! 



And when my troops marched out to meet the 

troops my old friend led, 
I sobbed with grief beyond belief as I marched on 

ahead. 



YARN FOUR 53 

"\ Y /"E camped that night upon a plain ; three hun- 
dred yards away 
The rebel crowd politely bowed and waited for the 

fray. 
One tear I wept before I slept — and, as I dropped 

that tear, 
The Revolution Bug flew up and stung me on the 

ear! 
'^ Down with the Government! " I roared next 

morn, with lusty lung. 
^' Down with it! Bang! " my soldiers sang — 

(they also had been stung) — 
And when the rebels heard that shout, forgetting 

war's alarms, 
With one great yell they came and fell into our 

open arms. 

"HPHE revolution wins! " cried Bim, and 

. danced a jig of glee — 
'* It does, old boy! " I shrieked with joy, and 

wildly slapped my knee. 
And then we marched into the town, upon election 

bent, 
And by those revolutionists I was made President ! 



54 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



They wanted Bim — but 'twas his whim to try to 

find some thing 
To cure the Revolution Bug's most inconvenient 

sting. 
And so I made him Minister of Chemistry and 

Sciences 




We dashed straight for the landing-place ; great Scott ! how 
fast we went ! 

And let him buy a vast supply of Anti-Bug 
appliances. 

f RULED that folk one week — then woke one 

lovely night bright-starred 
And saw the Revolution Bug sting all my Palace 

Guard. 



YARN FOUR 55 

To Bim I hied — ' ' Wake up ! " I cried ; ^ ^ Wake 

up! " I told my pup. 
I grabbed Bim's wrist — ^^ Come on! " I hissed — 

^* Quick! Run! The game is up! '' 
We dashed straight for the landing-place; great 

Scott! how fast we went! 
Close at our heels the Palace Guard yelled, ^ ' Hang 

the Government! '* 
We reached the schooner Flying Fish with not an 

inch to spare. 
With hostile roar upon the shore those Guards 

pulled out their hair. 
And as I thumbed my nose at them, beneath that 

sky bright-starred, 
I saw them choose a President — the Captain of my 

Guard ! 
He made his best friend next in rank — my shoul- 
ders I did shrug — 
For hov'ring 'round with whirring sound I saw — 

that dreadful Bug! 
And ere we disappeared around the little harbor 's 

bend 
That wicked thing began to sting the President's 

best friend! 



V 

While riding on a Broadway car in deep and pleasant 

thought 
My fingers suddenly within an iron grip were caught. 




I turned — 'twas famous Davy Jones. 

I turned — 'twas famous Davy Jones, as sure as I'm 
alive. 

** A yarn, a yarn! " I bellowed — so he promptly cried: 

57 



58 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

"l?arn fiver 

(How Da^y Jones met with a typhoon, — and how 
Napoleon should have armed his soldiers.) 

^■T^^ir^^^ HILE crossing the Pacific once I 
^ ^m m met with a typhoon 
^^ ^^ That didn 't give my schooner even 

half a chance to schoon. 
With seething waves behind me and with foaming 

waves before 
The gallant little Flying Fish was dashed upon the 

shore 
Of some far Polynesian Isle — where, fortunately, 

sand 
Took half the thump out of the bump with which 

we hit the land. 

f LABORED hard to push the ship into the sea 
again. 

I strained — I shoved — she never moved — my ef- 
forts were in vain. 

And then I looked around and saw a dusky native 
wight 



YARN FIVE 59 

Eegarding me with hungry glee and dining-room 

delight. 
^ ' A cannibal ! " I cried, appalled. He slunk into a 

copse, 
Where, in the shade he stayed and stayed, and 

grinned, and licked his chops. 
He called some friends — they also grinned at me 

and at my pup 
Till I, with groans cried, ^' Davy Jones, they're 

going to eat you up ! " 

'T'HEY went away. Dark night came on. I knew 

that dusky bunch 
Would come next day — it is their way — to claim 

me as their lunch. 
Then I remembered what I'd learned from great 

Magadawhee, 
The Zulu chief, whose firm belief is that a man, 

if he 
Will take a cat into a fight, has just as many lives 
As has the cat. ^' Ha! " I exclaimed. ^' Now, 

Davy Jones survives 
To-morrow's fight! " Then left and right I 

pushed the bushes thick 




o 



a 

OQ 



03 



c3 

"S 
a 



YARN FIVE 



61 



Until I readied the huts of those whom I was 
going to trick. 

I LAY within the silent woods, close by the chief- 
tain's house, 

And for an hour with all my power made noises 
like a mouse. 

Soon ev'ry cat from ev'ry hut came sneaking out 
to whip 

That daring mouse — I trapped them all — and 
took them to my ship. 

I chose the kittens sleek and soft — I chose the 
youthful cats, 




I lay within the silent woods, close by the chieftain's house, 
And for an hour with all my power made noises like a mouse. 

I let the old cats run away to search the woods for 
rats. 



62 



DAVY JONES'S YARNS 



Then, hidden by a lofty rock, I went and took my 

stand, 
A kitten in each pocket and a kitten in my hand. 




A kitten in each pocket and a kitten in my hand. 

^' I've twenty-seven lives! " I cried; '' so what a 

fight there'll be! " 
And, as I spoke, my foes awoke, and made a dash 

for me. 

I MOWED them down with cannon and with 

pistols and with guns, 
While, dodging spears and arrows, *'Dog Watch" 

bit the foremost ones. 
And all the while I counted every mortal wound I 

got; 



YARN FIVE 63 

Eight lives I lost from spears well tossed; nine 

more from arrows shot 
By foes galore. " I've ten lives more! '' I cried, 

' ' to win the day. ' ' 

DUT just as I had almost won that terrible 

affray 
I felt my left coat pocket — ^Wow! — a kitten had 

climbed forth, 
And, while I cried, quite terrified, it disappeared 

due north ! 
.One kitten gone ! Nine lives from ten ! I had but 

ONE life yet! 
Straight as a shot I sought my ship — more cats I 

had to get! 
But all my enemies had seen that kitten disappear. 
They understood my little trick and gave a savage 

cheer. 

/^NE hour passed — they charged at last — and 

gave me tit for tat. 
For every man with savage joy was brandishing a 

cat! 



64 DAVY JONES'S YARNS 

[With mighty roar they neared the shore, the game 

seemed almost up. 
Amid their yells I winked farewells to my beloved 

pup, 
And then I played my final card. Without a trace 

of fright 
I hurled among those cannibals some bombs of 

dynamite. 
Bang! Bang! The front ranks, every man, 

politely tumbled dead; 
Bang ! Bang ! The rear ranks dropped their cats 

— and spears — and hats — and fled ! 
For I had all the kittens — all the young cats — 

all their wives, 
My foes had all the old cats— EACH OF WHICH 

HAD LOST EIGHT LIVES ! 
And that is why they perished, while I madly 

danced with glee ; 
Then, running quickly to my ship, set all my 

kittens free. 
One mighty push ! — and, with a rush, my ship slid 

to the bay. 
And as through silv'ry moonlight I serenely sailed 

away, 



YARN FIVE 



65 



I noticed those surviving foes, with disappoint- 
ment smitten, 

Lie down and screech upon the beach, and brand- 
ish — each — a kitten ! 




And brandish— each — a kitten! 



OTHER SALTED SONGS 



THE LANDLUBBER'S TOAST 

"nniS pleasant to taste of the spray 
As the waters dash over the rail, 
To be frozen and wet 
And extremely upset 
In the teeth of a thundering gale. 
But the joys of a seafaring life 
Are naught but the emptiest boast, 
As glasses we clink 
In a room that can't sink 
And delightedly drink 
A new toast : 

^^ Oh, here's to the land, yo ho! 
Drain, drain every foaming tankard, 
. Oh, here's to the sea 

As it looks to me 
From a beach that is firmly anchored. 
Oh, here 's to the quiet, respectable street. 
Where the winds never howl and the waves 
never beat, 

69 



70 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

Where the ground has been trained to stick 
close to your feet, 
A healtli to the land, yo ho ! " 



There's a charm in the mariner's life, 
Of pleasure he suffers no lack. 
As he tumbles through space 
The winds slap his face 
And the boom makes a dent in his back. 
When the waves wash him over the side 
In a playful and innocent style, 
The fishes who note 
His descent from the boat 
Eat him up, table d'hote. 
With a smile. 

^^ So here's to the land, yo ho! 
Drain, drain every tankard foaming; 
The delights I resign 
Of the billowy brine — 
Let others do all my roaming. 

Oh, here's to the land where you stick to 
your chairs. 



THE LANDLUBBER'S TOAST 71 

Where the beds do not fire you out un- 
awares, 

Where you know which is down, and which 
is up, stairs, 
A health to the land, yo ho ! " 



FUTUEE LAUNCHINGS 

(The St. Louis brewers think it proper that the cruiser St. 
Louis should be christened with beer instead of champagne.) 

'|\ /f ID the pennants gaily streaming 

Lo ! the ship Vermont we launch, 
Pour, oh! pour the maple syrup 
On her armored bow so staunch ! 
Ah ! what patriotic feelings 
In our bosoms you awake, 
Syrup of the verdant mountains, 
Tamer of the griddle cake ! 

Hail the gallant ship Kentucky! 

Long may she the oceans ply. 

Break across her bows the bottle, 

Pour the brown baptismal Eye ! 

Hear the cheers of countless Colonels, 

See the banner in the breeze ! 

Cruiser! — keep the name untarnished 

Of the highball on the seas. 

72 



FUTURE LAUNCHINGS 73 

Launcli the gallant Porto Eico ! 
Let her seek the boundless main ! 
She is duly consecrated 
With a mammoth coffee stain. 
Beat, coffee hearts exultant, 
Planters of the berry — up ! 
Cheer ye likewise, sugar magnates. 
Seven lumps went in that cup ! 



A BALLAD OF THE NORTH 

/^LD Captain Olaf Bimsen was a Dane who 

wished to flit 
Straight to the Pole and be the first to holler: 

^^ Tag, you're it! " 
And so he built the Icicle, a staunch ice-butting 

craft, 
With iron nippers on her bow and twisted tweezers 

aft. 

He bought a kind of anchor which when let down 
way up front, 

Not only stands an impact, but, if needed, bears a 
brunt. 

He also purchased sledges strong and Borealis 
rails. 

And put three coats of Anti-Freeze upon his ves- 
sel's sails. - 

He got hot-water kettles, too, to pour upon the ice, 
And melt it in a jiify — in a moment — in a trice — 

74 



A BALLAD OF THE NORTH 75 

He signed a hardy Danish crew of mariners, yo 

ho! 
With individual mufflers on each finger and each 

toe. 

He got enormous quantities of food, whole kegs of 
grog, 

Besides a large fur-coated book, in which to write 
the log, 

And then he stood upon the deck and made a 
speech intense. 

(The crew's enthusiasm was, apparently, im- 
mense.) 

At last the fateful day drew near — all Denmark 

swelled with pride — 
But Captain Olaf Bimsen most unfortunately died. 
The trip, of course, was given up ; the Icicle was 

sold. 
She's now a ferryboat, I hear, 'twixt Skjop and 

Westenskjold. 



THE POET AND THE TAR 

(Being a clash of Soul and Matter) 

The Poet. 
/^H, tell me, sailor, I pray. 

Of the ocean sublime and blue. 

Of the long still nights, 

When the Northern Lights 
Do whatever it is they do. 
Oh, tell of the radiant dawns, 
Tell of Sitka and Singapore; 

Of the creaking sails 

And the spouting whales. 
And the hurricane's fateful roar. 

And the awesome thoughts in the sail- 
or's mind 

Whenever he leaves far, far behind 
The lights of his native shore. 

The Tar, 
Wlien I fust run away to sea 
With a skipper called Mungo Noggs 

76 



THE POET AND THE TAR 77 

We wuz all of us full 

From the Hook to Hull 
Of the wariegatedest grogs — 

And the mate was a sawed-off runt, 

But the cook was a tallish chap, 

Yet the rest of us b'ys 

Wuz of average size 
Though our whiskers 

The Poet. 

Oh, tell me, sailor, I pray. 

Of the ocean profound and vast ; 

Of the cloudless sky 

And the seagull's cry 
As it circles about the mast. 
Oh, tell of the stinging spray ; 
Of the dangerous, dripping fog- 

And infuse the whole 

With a dash of Soul, 
For you sound like a vessel's log. 
What I want is the salt-sea tang ; in brief, 
Let your Inner Self be your Leit-Motif , 

And do not allude to grog. 




78 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

The Tar. 

Wlien I next sailed away to sea 
For a skipper we had Zeb Tate, 

Who, concealed by a fog, 

So diluted our grog. 
That our jags wuz a whole day late. 

And our cook he wuz six foot two. 

But his dog he wuz two foot six. 

Yet the average size 

Of the rest of us b'ys 
(Not countin' Pop Squid) — wuz — wot's the mat- 
ter, poet ? — wot in leggo my throat ! 



A ROMANCE OF THE OCEAN 

IT was breezy — it was balmy — it was on a tropic 

sea 
When a mermaid swam alongside and addressed a 

wink to me ; 
She could speak a little Choctaw — I could make a 

blnff at Dutch ; 
So we understood each other — sometimes slightly, 

sometimes much. 

All creation was a-snoring — all the fishes slept 

pro-tem., 
And the silent calm of midnight was suffusing 

nine p. m. 
As she swam the placid ocean and, with banjo, 

softly sang. 
In a waterproof contralto (with a lovely little 

twang) : 

*' Mister Sailor, Mister Sailor, of ungraceful 
curves and bends, 

79 



80 



OTHER SALTED SONGS 



Of the nnromantic features and the plural lower 
ends, 

Plunge, oh! plunge, in silv'ry waters, gaily down- 
ward navigate, 




She swam the placid ocean and, with banjo, softly sang. 



A ROMANCE OF THE OCEAN 81 

There a clergy-fish shall join us — if you don't 
asphyxiate. '^ 

Thus she softly played and warbled with entranc- 
ing tone and touch 

(It was charming in her Choctaw as it sounded in 
my Dutch) : 

And I cried : ' ' Yes, maid, I'm coming to the depths 
where ships lie sunk, 

To the silent ocean caverns — to the — wait, I'll 
pack my trunk ! " 

How I hurried on my mission! — ah! how soon I 
hoped to meet 

'Mid the banks of flashing coral, all the jellyfish 
elite ! 

How I warbled and gyrated till — alas ! — the Cap- 
tain heard. 

And he kicked me down the hatchway, which he 
shut without a word. 

Seven days of nameless torture — seven nights of 
nameless pain 

I survived by thinking mermaid; then they freed 
me once again ; 



82 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

Forty years have since retired — forty times IVe 

loved (and much), 
Yet — I yearn to hear her Choctaw as it sounded 

in my Dutch ! 



THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 

**IT positively verges on the personal, I think, 
When any one informs me I'm a swozzle- 

headed gink, 
'Tain't skipper-like of Captain Bangs; 'tain't 

noble or well-bred, 
'Tain't anythin' exceptin' true! " Bill Snaggs, a 

sailor, said. 

^' I may be this, I may be that, my manner may be 

slow. 
But why, by Davy Jones 's beard, should skippers 

tell me so ? 
I'll go and speak to Captain Bangs — he must 

apologize — 
I'm gettin' astigmatic from his damnin' of my 

eyes! " 

So Bill went up to Captain Bangs and said: 

^^ You've called this tar 

A swozzle-headed gink. ' ' Said Bangs : ^ ^ Exactly 

what you are ! ' ' 

83 



84 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

* ^ I know, I know, ' ' said Sailor Bill, ' ' and hence 

it was an act — 
If I may take the liberty — most lackin', sir, in 

tact.'^ 

^' You're right, my man," the skipper said, '^ so I 

apologize 
For all the names I've called you, and the damnin' 

of your eyes — 
Henceforth your name is ^ Ocean Eose ' and 

^ Pansy Face ' and ' Pink ' 
And ' Sea Anemone ' instead of ' Swozzle-headed 

Gink.' " 

And so, when Bill would steer all wrong, or reef a 

sail askew 
The skipper, looking black as night, would call him 

*' Morning Dew." 
^' Here, Morning Dew, you sweet-faced thing, 

swab off that deck with suds. 
You damask-featured son of dampened dandelion 

buds ! " 

And Bill thought over these remarks and said: 
" It seems to me 



THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 85 

His language, though more lyrical, is pretty much 

as free; 
"Whereby he gets his swearin' and his cussin' just 

the same, 
While I'm a bloomin' Flower Show and almost 

dead of shame ! ' ' 

And Bill grew sad and Bill grew thin and Bill ex- 
claimed in pain : 

* ^ Avast this line of garden talk ! — I must get 
cussed again! " 

And so he spoke to Bangs, who said, ' ' I knew it ! " 
gave a wink. 

And spent the morning calling Bill a ^' swozzle- 
headed gink.'' 



THE SAILOR'S LIFE 

(As dsscribed by him constantly in comic operas) 

AWHEN in a rat-infested tub 
We sail aronnd the Horn, 
Compelled, by what we get for grub, 
To wish ourselves unborn. 
When banged and tossed 
And cursed and bossed. 
And tumbled to and fro, 
We have a single formula, 
A crisp and salty formula, 
For pleasure or for woe. 
To wit : the constant bleating of the point- 
less phrase ' ' Yo ho ! " 
^' Yo ho! " we bawl 
In storm and squall; 
^ ^ Yo ho ! "we squeak 
In weather meek ; 
^ ^ Yo ho ! " we cheer, 
' ' Yo ho ! " we cry, 

86 



THE SAILOR'S LIFE 87 

* * Yo ho, yo ho ! ' ' — no matter why — 

' ' Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! " 
(Hornpipe here, of course.) 

Though in a tempest we may die 
Far from our weeping wives, 
Though raging billows, mountain-high, 
May figure in our lives. 
Though masts may break 
And brave men quake 
And winds in fury blow. 
We never change our formula, 
Our all-embracing formula. 
For pleasure or for woe, 
To wit : the ceaseless bawling of a mean- 
ingless ' ' Yo ho ! " 
* ' Yo ho ! " our song 
In tempest strong, 
' ' Yo ho ! " our balm 
In vexing calm, 
' ' Yo ho ! " when gay, 
'• ^ Yo ho ! " when glum, 

* * Yo ho ! yo ho ! " ad libitum — 

* * Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! " 

(Hornpipe again, of course.) 



THE YAEN OF THE SEA-GOIXG CHEESE 

\ Y/HILE sailing o 'er the waters of the treacher- 
ous North Sea 

In latitude fourteen-by-six and longitude 3B, 

Upon a hidden, sunken reef, with loud, heartrend- 
ing bang, 

A German whaling vessel stuck — the Wein, Fisch 
und Gesang. 

And only Friedrich Wurst, the mate, was rescued, 

if you please; 
He climbed upon a whale's broad back, and 

brought along a cheese. 
The monster gaily swam away and spouted 

merrily, 
While Friedrich thought : " If it should dive, vot 

vould become of me? " 

But then he sniffed that cheese and cried: 

'' Eureka! Ha! Just vait! " 

(That cheese had been a dotard back in eighteen- 

forty-eight.) 

88 



YARN OF THE SEA-GOING CHEESE 89 

He took a handful of its crumbs, and, standing on 

the whale, 
He threw those crumbs into the sea, which bubbled 

and turned pale. 

The whale prepared to dive, it did; it spread its 
jaws and smiled. 




He climbed upon a whale's broad back, and brought along a cheese. 



90 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

And then it got a taste of sea-mit-clieese that drove 

it wild. 
It lashed its tail ; it thrashed about ; it said : ^ ' As 

I'm alive! 
If that's the way the ocean tastes, I'm jiggered if 

I dive! " 

And so it stayed above all day; it lashed with 
frightful force; 

While Friedrich, standing on its brow, threw 
cheese along its course. 

Six times it tried the diving bluff; six times it 
sipped the sea, 

And roared: " If that's the Subway taste, a sur- 
face life for me ! ' ' 

At last it didn't even try; it hardly dared to 
sneeze. 

(No pen can paint the deadliness of that unhal- 
lowed cheese.) 

While Friedrich sat upon its neck and watched out 
for a sail. 

And soon he spied a whaling vessel near — so did 
the whale. 



YARN OF THE SEA-GOING CHEESE 91 

The whale prepared to dive again; it sipped the 
salty seas 

Just at the moment Wurst threw in the whole re- 
maining cheese. 

It floated down the monster's throat ; the taste was 
something weird ; 

That frantic whale dashed toward the ship in 
hopes of getting speared. 

And speared it was, while through the air the 
cheers of Friedrich rang, 

For he had recognized his ship, the Wein, Fisch 
und Gesang; 

She hadn't foundered on a reef; she had encoun- 
tered none. 

(A violent contradiction to Lines Three and Four, 
Verse One.) 



DEEP-SEA THOUGHTS 

A SAILOR'S life is a wonderful thing — so 

variegated-like ! 
He never knows where he is going to land or what 

he is going to strike. 
He may be wrecked on a coral reef or eaten by 

hungry sharks, 
Or he may not be — do you catch my drift and the 

tenor of my remarks ? 

He may, you see, depart from port, where the 

water is calm and flat. 
And presently hit a frightful storm — do you see 

what I'm driving at? 
Well, that is the hand of Fate, you know, a hidden, 

tremendous force, 
Which guides and steers and goes butting round — 

you know what I mean, of course. 

This element of uncertainty, of something-may- 
happenness, 

92 



DEEP-SEA THOUGHTS 93 

Is what I'm endeavoring to get at — you follow me, 
more or less 1 

The sight of a barometric drop produces a shud- 
dering 

And trains of extremely high-class thought and — 
well, all that sort of thing. 

And thus the sailor is hushed and awed and filled 

with a childlike doubt, 
A sense of pulsating mystery — I was trying to 

bring that out. 
It's deucedly psychological and, according to those 

who know it, 
Eeacts — do you see? — internally, and — Oh read a 

deep-sea poet ! 



THE YARN OF THE LET-HER-EIP 

T^HE learnedest crew tliat I ever knew was the 

crew of the Let-Her-Rip; 
They all read books in secluded nooks and wholly 

ignored the ship; 
At the boatswain's beck on the after deck they 

would sit in a seething gale 
And learnedly rant concerning Kant, forgetting 

to reef a sail. 

But the skipper, alas ! was extremely crass — at 

maritime Kants he shied, 
So they pummeled his head till he cried "I'm 

dead " — which they jDresently verified — 
And they buried him deep for his final sleep in the 

waters so green and cool 
While the boatswain said (he was very well read) : 

" Sic transit a blamed old fool." 

Then the cook for an hour read Schopenhauer — a 
book which he always kept — 

94 



THE YARN OF THE LET-HER-RIP 95 

And the crew all cried : ' ' Give us suicide ! ' ' — but, 

as nobody did, tliey wept. 
Then, immersed in gloom, from the long jibboom, 

while a tear down his features stole, 
One sailor sunk to his death — kerplunk! — with a 

yellof '' WotistheSoull " 

And the boatswain cries : ^ ' Ay, wot is it, b 'ys ! ' ' 

and the sailors, despairing, weep. 
Till seventeen more, with a hopeless roar, plunge 

into the ocean deep. 
So the scared cook reads some pleasanter creeds — 

the sailors new courage get, 
And the suicide men, bobbing up again, are rescued 

extremely wet. 

Now, all this may do in one gale or two, but it's 
bad as a steady thing; 

So the Let-Her-Eip on a reef went ^^ zip! " and 
split with a frightful " bing! " 

And the crew all drowned with a look profound ex- 
pressive of " We don't care! " 

And the solemn old mate just gurgled '' Fate! " 
when he ceased to encounter air. 



THE BALLAD OF THE MARLINE-SPIKE 

npHE gallant schooner Marline-spike, as spick- 
and-span a craft 

As ever luffed into the breeze with spinnaker 
abaft, 

Was sailing o'er a tropic sea as placid as a lake 

When Elmer Twigg, a mariner, thus to the Cap- 
tain spake : 

^' The flyin' fish is sleepin', sir; the moon is hard 

alee ; 
The Muse, with her rambunctious paw, has been a- 

ticklin' me. 
The voice of po'try fills my soul, so give me pen 

and ink 
And lock me in the capstan-head ; I think I'm goin' 

to think! " 

They did as Elmer bade them do ; they gave him 

ink and pen 
They locked him in the capstan-head and told him 

to say when, 

96 



BALLAD OF THE MARLINE-SPIKE 97 

And then the gunwale they belayed and made the 

scuppers tight 
And listened by the capstan-head expectantly all 

night. 

At seven bells they heard him snore; they said: 

^ ' He 's overwrought ! 
It must be so tremendous-like to wrastle with a 

thought! " 
At half -past seven bells he cried : ' 'My messmates, 

do not fear ! 
The Muse is hoverin' round me and she's even 

pinched my ear! '' 

And thus till ninety-seven bells ; then dawned upon 

the crew 
A light; they said: " We guess the game that 

Twigg is up unto! " 
So they unlocked the capstan-head. He lay in 

slumber deep, 

And on a paper he had scrawled : ' ' Oh, wot a thing 

is Sleep ! ' ' 

• ••••• 

For Elmer there's no port watch now, no star- 
board watch, nor dog, 



98 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

He Tvatclies all the day and niglit, and steers, and 

writes the log, 
And swabs the deck and shaves the crew and cooks 

the things they like. 
And wakes them up three times a month aboard 

the Marline-spike. 



AN EPOCH-MAKER 

(It is said that the new turbine engine will eliminate 

seasickness.) 

N TO more the dinner-gong's unhallowed note 
Will make the transatlantic voyager weep, 
By bringing visions of the table d'hote, 
That direst of the terrors of the deep ; 
No more the steward solicitous will be, 
Rebuffed as on the deck he goes his way. 
Repeating oft his gastronomic plea 
Concerning the delights of consomme. 

No more the ship's despair-provoking rolls, 
As in the ocean's trough she madly delves. 
Will stir the deepest caverns of our souls. 
The inmost inwards in our inner selves ; 
No more we '11 lie like freight upon the decks. 
Wrapped up in steamer rugs undignified. 
Profane, bright green, dilapidated wrecks. 
Sincerely sorry that we never died. 

99 



100 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

Napoleon, Alexander, Genghis Khan, 

Knocked over all their enemies like toys, 

Bill Shakespeare flashed the searchlight into 

man. 
And Wagner grabbed the world's supply of 

noise. 
Sir Isaac Newton raised a great pow-wow 
Concerning physics — Archimedes too 
Was tropic stuff, but. Turbine engine, now 
We'll hand the biggest laurel wreath to you. 



IMMORTALITY ON THE HIGH SEAS 

/^H, the Sparkling Spray was a graceful 

craft, 
She was partly frigate and partly raft, 
With a touch of sloop where the topsails brail 
And her smokestack clewed to her mizzen rail. 

And a bowsprit new 

And a captain gay, 

And a lively crew 

Who remarked all day : 
^ ' Though the tempest crash and the sea be churned 
To a seething mass of foam; 
Though the lightning flash we'll be unconcerned. 
For we're sailors in a ^ pome.' 

Though the mainsail rip 

All asleep we '11 lie. 

For we have a tip 

That we cannot die, 
Being sailors in a ' pome,' yo ho ! 
Just sailors in a ^ pome.' " 

101 



102 OTHER SALTED SONGS 

Oh, the Sparkling Spray hit a jagged reef, 
And the public read with a firm belief 
That the Captain stood 'twixt the hawser decks 
Till he swallowed a wave and cashed in his checks. 

And the poet averred 

That the crew all drowned, 

But he must have heard 

This provoking sound: 

' ' Let the fellow fuss with his winds and waves 
Through the stanzas where we roam, 
Let the rhythmic cuss dig our jDaper graves 
In the caverns of his ' pome ' — 

As we 're not alive 

And we don't use breath, 

We are sure to thrive 

On a sudden death 
In the caverns of his ' pome ', yo ho ! 
The caverns of his ' pome.' " 



THE CAROLYN WELLS YEAR BOOK 

Illustrated by Mrs. M. E. Leonard, Miss Bertha Stuart, Messrs. Oliver 
Herford, Strothmann, and de Fornaro. 12ino. $1.25 net. 

The basis of this joyous volume is 52 weekly engagement blanks, faced 
by pages of light verse, limericks, or jests by the iuimitable Miss Wells, 
occasionally decorated by Miss Bertha Stuart, Oliver Herford, Strothmann, 
and de Fornaro. But tnis is not ail; tne book contains "A New Zodiac" 
such as astronomers never dreamed of, and better and more accurate 
misinformation, including the valuable and deceptive Metropolitan Guide 
Book and Dictionary of Later New York, than can be found in any other 
calendar, year book, or almanac whatsoever. One of Mrs. Leonard's grace- 
ful designs ushers in each month, and carries in its midst new verses by 
Miss Wells. Among the new things are Lincoln's Birthday, St. Patrick's 
Day, To Move or Not to Move, and Thanksgiving Day. No one ever loved 
Omar or understood him better than Miss Wells, who has kept busy writ- 
ing the things he hadn't time to; her Ruhaiyat of Little Old New York 
and Summer Khayyam, may be found here; also The Lady of Niger who 
Went for a Ride on a Tiger (as Browning, Kipling, and others did not write 
it), by special request; A Primer of Literature; That Cherry Tree and 
George Washington; Old Valentines; Financial Assurance; A Market 
Page (with invaluable tips); N'Yawk's de Place; The Flat iron; The 
Hippodrome; The Summer School of Philosophy; Proverbial Patriotism,; 
A Tale of the Tropics; Language of the Motor Car; several limericks, and 
many additional and much more entertaining matters which space and 
bashfulness prevent our mentioning. 

THE PLEASANT THOUGHT YEAR BOOK 

For each day of the year. Selected by Mary R, J. DuBois. 18mo. 
^i.UOnet- 

Donald C. Mitchell (Ik Marvel): "It is a charming little book. The 
selections most adroit and wise. It is certainly one of the choicest col- 
lections of pleasant thoughts for the year that we have ever seen, embrac- 
ing, as it does, the finest sentiments of more than one hundred of our 
best authors." 

The Right Rev. Chauncey B. Brewster, Bishop of Conn.: "These thoughts 
are full of interest and suggestion, and likely to be often valuable." 

The Christian Advocate: "Marked with refinement, and there is in the 
volume glints of wit as well as sentiment and religious feeling." 

DAVY JONES' YARNS AND OTHER SALTED SONGS 

By Thomas R. Ybarra. With over 30 illustrations by Henry Mayeb 
of the New York Times. (October.) Probable price $1.00 net. 

A wild book in which the imagination and humor of both versifier and 
artist are restrained by nothing but propriety. Davy Jones has mad 
adventures with the Swiss Admiral, Cannibals, the Czar. Mince Pirates, 
the Revolution Bug, etc. Later come "The Landlubber's 'Toast," ana 
verses about a sailor who made a poet "tired," a captain who substituted 
flowers for oaths, and some highly amusing burlesques of typical sea songs 
and comic-opera sailors. Henry Mayer's pictures are full of "go" and 
glee. 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 



10th IMPRESSION OF A VERY HUMOROUS TALE 

HER LADYSHIP'S ELEPHANT 

By DAVID DWIGHT WELLS 

With cover by Wm. Nicholson. i2mo, $1.25 

A very humorous story, dealing with Enghsh society, and growing 
out of certain experiences of the author while a member of our 
Embassy in London, The elephant's ex- 
periences, also, are based on facts. 

The Nation : "He is probably funny 
because he cannot help it. . . Again and 
again excites spontaneous laughter, is such a 
boon that its author must consent to be re- 
garded as a benefactor of his kind without 
responsibility." 

New York Tribune: *' Mr. Wells allows 
his sense of humor to play about the person- 
alities of half a dozen men and women whose 
lives, for a few brief, extraordinary days, are 
inextricably intertwined with the life of the 
aforesaid monarch of the jungle. . . Smacks 
of fun which can be created by clever actors 
placed in excruciatingly droll situations." 

R. H. Stoddard in Next) York Mail and 
From the back of Wm. Express : " Mr. Wells has more than enough 

^H^er^^Lad ship's Ele- ^^"^<^^' ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^°^y "^ ^ ^^^^ "^tural and 
pkant.^'' "' laughable way. He has a great deal of 

comic talent." 

Philadelphia Times: "As breezy a bit of fiction as the reading 
public has lately been offered. Amusing from the first page to the 
last, unique in conception, and absolutely uproarious in plot." 

Nezv York Commercial Advertiser : "A really delicious chain of 
absurdities which are based upon American independence and impu- 
dence ; . . . exceedingly amusing." 

Outlook : * Full of amusing situations." 

Buffalo Express: "So amusing is the book that the reader is 
almost too tired to laugh when the elephant puts in his appearance." 

Chicago Evenijig Post: "An' instantaneous success. . . The 
most read story of the season." 

HENRY HOLT & CO., ^^ ^^f^^t.^"^^' 

i^* His Lordship's Leopard, a new book by the same author. 
121110, $1.50, 




BOOKS THAT CHEER 

By CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS 

Uniform 12mo. Each, $1.25. 

A HOLIDAY TOUCH 

And other tales of dauntless Americans. 

This volume consists chiefly of anecdotes of Americans who 
won out sm.iling ; among them are A Study in Optimism, 
Buffum and the Cannibals, Uncle Eli's Induced Ambegris, A 
Dinner' to Paul, With a Money King to Back Me, and several 
delightful burlesques, including The Only Vice of Awful Adkins 
and A Coat of Alpaca, while a brace of Christmas stories in 
highly contrasted veins open and close the book. Despite the 
extravagance of the situations there is often a touch of quiet 
pathos. 

POE'S RAVEN IN AN ELEVATOR 

Being a later edition of ''More Cheerful Americans." Illus- 
trated by Mrs. Shinn and others. 

Eighteen humorous tales in the vein of the author's popular 
''Cheerful Americans," with a dozen equally humorous pictures, 
six of them by Florence Scovel Shinn. To these is appended 
a delightfully satirical paper on "How to Write a Novel for 

the Masses." 

A''. Y. Times Review: "Really funny. You have to laugh — laugh sud- 
denly and unexpectedly." 

Chicago Record-Herald: "There is enough of the Stockton flavor in this 
volume to make it deserve a new career in its fresh dress. The book is 
pleasantly illustrated." 

Washington Star: "Each one of them is a blessing. It will aid diges- 
tion, induce health, and add to the joy of the living." 

CHEERFUL AMERICANS 

Illustrated by Mmes. Shinn, Cory, and others. 

Seventeen humorous tales, including three quain^ automo- 
bile stories, and the "Americans Abroad" series, "The Man 
of Putty," "Too Much Boy," "The Men Who Swapped Lan- 
guages," "Veritable Quidors," etc. 

N. Y. Times Saturday Review says of one of the stories: "It is worthy 
of Frank Stockton." The rest of the notice praises the book. 

N. Y. Tribune: "He is unaffectedly funny, and entertains us from 
beginning to end." 

Nation: "The mere name and the very cover are full of hope. . . . 
This small volume is a safe one to lend to a gambler, an invalid, a hypo- 
chondriac, or an old lady; more than safe for the normal man." 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 



STIRRING MYSTERY STORIES 

ANGEL ESQUIRE 

By Edgar Wallace. 12mo, $1.50, 
A rattling good detective story in which an inexperienced girl 
has to contend with tliree unscrupulous and daring criminals for 
millions strangely bequeathed to one of the four. 

"Inspiring originality. Mr. Edgar Wallace has achieved the impossible. 
He has written a detective scory liavin? for its hero a type absolutely n^-w. 
Moreover, to make his book completely fascinaring, he puts before his liero 
a problem of refreshing fantasticality. The story grows breathle'<sly excit- 
ing Through its thrilling developments, Angel . squire moves with an airy 
aplomb that is ine-^istible. All the time he is smiling, full of quaintiiess 
and humor." — N. Y. Tribune, 



By Burton E. Stevenson 
THAT AFFAIR AT ELIZABETH 

Another story in which Lester, the young law\'er, and Godfrey, 
the reporter, play the part of detectives in unraveling a modern 
mystery. $1.50. 

" A well-constructed detective story . . . surrounding the disapp^^aranco 
of a bride a few minutes before the hour set for her wedding. A murder is? 
committed at about the time of her vanisliing. and the two stories are vig- 
orously interwoven, being worked out to a surprising conclusion." — 
Chicago Font. 

'•Starts with a capital situation. . . . The reader is utterly unable to 
guess at the secret."— JV. Y. Tribune. 

THE MARATHON MYSTERY 

The story of a strange happening in a New York apartment 
house, and at a Long Island house party. The plot is unusual, 
fidl of surprises; the handling is masterful. It has been repub- 
lished in England and Germany. With five scenes in color by 
Eliot Keen. $1.50. 

"The author has stepped at once to the front ranks among American 
writers of detective tales . . . a yarn with genuine thrills." — Boukman. 

" Distiu'-tlv an interesting story — one of the sort that the reader will not 
lay down before he goes to bed." — ^eio York Sun. 

THE HOLLADAY CASE 

This remarkable story begins with the finding of a Xew York 
banker stabbed to death in his office. Suspicion falls on liis 
daughter. A kidnapping and pursuit over seas follow. The 
story contains a minimum of horror and a maximum of ingenu- 
ity, and the mystery is kept up to the next to last chapter. 
With frontispiece by Eliot Keen. $1.25. 

" A good detective story, and it is the better because the part of the hero 
is not filled by a member of the profession. . . . Thereader will n^t want 
to nut the book down until he has reached the last page. Most ingeniously 
constructed and well written into the bargain." — N. Y. Tribune. 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 



OCT 23 1908 



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